The sky was still grey when Lin Xun rose. The air carried the faint chill that lingered before sunrise, and the streets beyond the teahouse were silent but for the occasional clatter of a cartwheel on cobblestone.
He lit the hearth in the back room, coaxing the flames to life with a few dry sticks. The water jar beside the stove was full from the night before, the surface smooth as polished glass. He set the kettle over the fire, letting the slow warmth spread through the room.
From the shelf above, he took down a narrow wooden box bound with silk cord. Inside, nestled in folded cloth, were leaves of a rare harvest... Longcloud Spring, gathered from the highest slopes of Mount Qilan where the mist lay thick enough to bead on every leaf. The leaves were curled like tiny sleeping birds, their colour a deep emerald with faint silver tips.
Shen Lan entered without sound, her steps light on the wooden floor. "You are starting early."
"The market will not wait," Lin Xun said. "Nor should the water."
She watched as he measured the leaves into a small porcelain jar. "Will this be enough to win?"
"It will be enough to speak for itself."
---
By the time the kettle began to sing, the first light had touched the edge of the rooftops. Lin Xun poured a measure of hot water over the leaves, letting them wake and release their scent. It was a fragrance both fresh and deep, like rain falling through pine forests and settling into stone.
He set aside the rest of the leaves, sealing them into a small pouch that he slipped into his sleeve. The tea would be brewed at the market, before the crowd, so every drop of steam would carry the truth of its making.
A low murmur began to stir in the street outside. Vendors were already moving toward the market, pushing carts laden with baskets of fruit, bolts of dyed silk, and jars of pickled vegetables. The scent of frying dough drifted past as a baker passed by, his stall stacked with golden twists of bread.
Shen Lan followed Lin Xun as he stepped out, the door to the Emerald Leaf swinging closed behind them. The morning air was crisp, the sky paling toward blue, and the sound of the city waking grew louder with every street they crossed.
---
Word had travelled quickly. By the time they reached the East Market, the crowd was already forming in a loose circle around two stalls that stood opposite one another.
The rival was there, dressed in a robe of bright crimson and gold, his hair bound high with a jade pin that gleamed in the early light. His stall was draped in silk banners embroidered with images of dragons and clouds, each one painted with bold characters promising miracles in a cup.
On his table stood an array of gleaming kettles, jars of tea leaves sealed in glass, and rows of ornate cups that caught the light like jewels. Behind him, two young attendants moved briskly, pouring water and arranging trays, their hands never idle.
The rival's voice carried over the market with ease. "Today, friends, you will taste tea that quickens the blood, clears the mind, and sharpens the spirit. Watch closely, for this is a brewing worthy of the sages."
His audience laughed and clapped, drawn in by the warmth of his tone and the promise in his words.
Lin Xun chose a place opposite, setting his table with deliberate care. He laid out a single kettle of polished bronze, a small wooden tray, three cups of pale porcelain, and the pouch of Longcloud Spring. There were no banners, no painted promises, only the steady rhythm of water filling the kettle and the faint curl of steam rising into the morning air.
---
The market square smelled of many things at once... fresh bread from the baker's stall, fried dumplings sizzling in oil, the sharp tang of pickled ginger from a jar seller's cart. Yet slowly, as the water in Lin Xun's kettle began to heat, another scent began to thread its way through the air.
It was subtle at first, a hint of green sweetness beneath the noise of the market. Then it deepened, curling into the space between breaths, until those nearest found themselves turning toward the quiet stall without quite knowing why.
Shen Lan took her place at the edge of the table, one hand resting lightly on her sword hilt. She did not speak, but her gaze moved steadily across the crowd, weighing every face.
The rival noticed. His smile did not falter, but his voice rose a little louder as he poured his first infusion, the stream of tea falling in a glittering arc into the waiting cups.
"Behold," he said, holding one cup aloft, "the colour of true vitality."
The liquid was a rich amber, the steam rising in swift curls. A murmur ran through his listeners, and several stepped forward to accept the first tastes.
---
Lin Xun waited. The water in his kettle reached the perfect temperature, and he poured it over the leaves in slow, even circles, letting them unfurl in their own time. The scent that rose was like the first breeze after spring rain, cool yet carrying the warmth of the sun hidden in the mist.
He poured into the first cup, then the second, the tea pale as morning light, clear enough that the porcelain beneath seemed almost to glow. He set the cups on the wooden tray, their surface trembling faintly with the weight of their heat.
The crowd began to shift, eyes moving from the noise of the rival's stall to the stillness of his.
A man in the front row stepped closer. "May I?"
Lin Xun nodded. The man lifted the cup with both hands, inhaling before he drank. His eyes widened just slightly, as though some knot within him had loosened without his notice.
Others followed, drawn by curiosity and the faint, elusive fragrance that seemed to promise something they could not quite name.
---
The rival's attendants moved quickly, offering seconds, speaking in bright voices to keep the crowd's attention. Yet more people began to edge toward Lin Xun's table, their steps slow, as if reluctant to leave one stall entirely for the other.
Shen Lan leaned closer. "He is growing restless."
Lin Xun set another pot to brew. "Tea does not hurry, even for restlessness."
The market noise swelled as the last of the sun crested the rooftops. Shadows retreated from the square, and the banners above the rival's stall flared in the light like living flames.
From somewhere in the crowd, a voice called out, "When will the judges taste?"
The rival straightened, his smile returning to full strength. "Now," he said. "Let them taste and let them decide."
---
Two men and a woman stepped forward from the edge of the square. Each wore the badge of the city's trade hall, the symbol stitched in silver on their sleeves. They took their places between the two stalls, their expressions neutral as they accepted the first cups from the rival's hands.
Lin Xun poured for them as well, the steam curling gently upward to dissolve in the warming air. He set the cups before them without a word.
The crowd pressed closer, the air thick with the mingled scents of tea, food, and the faint dust of the market square. All eyes were on the three judges as they raised their cups in unison.
The rival's voice rang out one last time. "Taste well, friends… and remember which cup brought you the truest clarity."
Lin Xun said nothing. He simply watched as the cups touched their lips.
---